


THE BONDING BOX

by vanhunks



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Bonding Box, F/M, Gifts, Grand Promises, High Sap Content, Post-Season 07e18, Ring symbols, Story: Isabo's Shirt - Kirsten Beyer, Unrequited Love, Venice in the Moonlight
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-18 17:41:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16123514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanhunks/pseuds/vanhunks
Summary: A coda to Kirsten Beyer's "Isabo's Shirt". It is two years after Chakotay's birthday when Kathryn presented him with a bonding box. A kiss on the holodeck triggers his memories of that fateful night when, in a holodeck setting of Venice, Kathryn and Chakotay kissed and all but sealed their love. But it has come with a sacrifice. They cannot be together romantically until they're home, which leaves Chakotay frustrated although he tries hard to put the memory of that night behind him.





	THE BONDING BOX

**Author's Note:**

> A Coda to "Isabo's Shirt" by Kirsten Beyer. This will be a few chapters, although chapter 1 can be read as standalone. Set in season 7 perhaps after "Human Error".

* * *

 

THE BONDING BOX

CHAPTER 1

He was once again thrown into a maelstrom of memories. What had been won with the greatest measure of self-discipline, while conceding that those moments were not many, in a moment shattered. His celebrated restraint, honed over time, in an instant turned to dust.

Because Seven of Nine kissed him. 

The suddenness of her intent to paste her lips to his caught him by surprise. For a brief moment the touch lingered. Chakotay felt offended by the caress. Her taste, her smell, the feel of her all borrowed, by her own admission, from the ship's database - unreal, plastic, counterfeit, yet enough to unsettle him. They threatened to stick like unwanted limpets to his skin. Seven brazenly leaned in to deepen the kiss. He invited no further encouragement as he kept his arms firmly at his sides. Embracing her would have given greater inducement to increase her boldness, to entertain the idea that he returned the caress, or that he cared. He wondered at the beauty of this woman whose golden hair floated in loose tresses about her face and neck but whose lips felt hard, explosive, coarse. Then, abruptly, the touch imploded as Seven  abandoned the connection. 

In her eyes rested confusion. 

"There is no reciprocation," she stated quietly as confusion changed to acceptance. 

"What did you expect, Seven?" 

"I expected an exchange of warmth, of passion, of - of electric currents shooting through me, that you experienced the same." 

A sudden blinding flash in a half forgotten setting of Venice in the moonlight - another pair of  lips caressing his, his insides boiling with uncontrolled passion as they danced to the sultry music and kissed. Chakotay blinked as soft lips of that memory burned on his. His hard won control to keep those images at bay lay at his feet in broken dreams. 

To drive away Venice and the images they evoked, he looked at the woman standing in front of him - tall, statuesque, ready to comply with everything he could have pursued with her. It turned him off, this need of Seven of Nine to be with him, to explore lust and love. She was not what he wanted, when all he wanted, he knew, could not materialise… 

Sighing, he grasped Seven's arms like a parent reassuring a child, showing her that there were other avenues of exploration of the human touch. 

"I cannot give you what you desire, Seven of Nine."  

He felt bold enough to withstand the disappointment in her eyes and held his composure. He wanted her to understand that he could not be her lover, ever. Swamped by a sudden need to escape Seven of Nine and what she offered, he wanted to rush out of the holodeck, return to his quarters to ponder on how he could ever have allowed her advances in the first place. 

Seven, in true Borg fashion straightened instantly, adapted to a new reality, a certain resolve in her eyes. And even in the heartache he imagined she had to endure, he saw no malice. Perhaps, he reasoned, she'd made the attempt and would cut her losses once he denied her any intimacy. 

"I understand, Commander, perhaps more than you think. I would have been second, at best." 

What could he say to such a direct response, one that hinted at the heart of his troubles? They stood in the holodeck, each reluctant to move before the other. It was a date Chakotay had agreed upon but which, since Seven's kiss triggered an old and painful memory, he regretted with a deep ache. 

Because her kiss left him cold. It did nothing but evoke another woman's touch, another woman's soft body in his arms, another woman who had said 'no' to him. Deep inside he'd entertained a vain hope that dating Seven might be different, that it could assuage a deeper, long denied hunger. 

"Computer, delete program," she instructed quietly. 

**

Later that evening he dived to the holodeck to engage in hard, physical activity to force those memories with Kathryn from his mind. Velocity against a hologram made him think too much of her and all those times he'd allowed her to beat him, their laughs, their great friendship which sustained their association on Voyager. 

Minutes later, after changing the programme, he stared down his boxing opponent - a strong, wily, hard-nosed ruffian brought up in the tough life of migrants on Earth. An hour later they were still at it, Kathryn and her kiss and Venice and a bonding box and an ornate mirror receding from his mind as he threw punches at his opponent, Boothby's voice rising above the grunts. 

He just had to keep going. He didn't want to remember soft lips against his, a willing body that melted into him, a small hand in his while his other hand caressed her back. 

He didn't want to remember. "Damn you, Seven!" he cried out as he threw punch after punch at Bon the Hammer Man, connecting hard against his opponent's jaw, his cheek, his upper torso, but mostly his face. The Hammer gave as good as he got. Spit and mouthguard flew in a trajectory out of the ring. Another swift left hook and Hammer Man hit the canvas. Chakotay breathed heavily, certain that his eye was swollen. He could hardly see Boothby. 

"Stop! Stop!"  Boothby cried, waving his arms frantically. 

"C'mon, Boothby, I'm only just warming up!" Chakotay complained. 

"Your face is a mess, Commander and my prize-fighter is dead on his feet. You'd better go." 

*****

He dreamed of Kathryn's kiss. Damn Seven of Nine who triggered those memories. It kept him awake, made him remember everything of that night when he tried to centre himself again. He wanted to forget and remember at the same time. Pain and pleasure side by side. 

He couldn't sleep. Sleep was lying awake, moving about with restless energy, tossing and turning, hoping that sleep would deliver him from what Seven of Nine unwittingly aroused. 

He rolled around, thrashing this way and that, trying to block out images of dancing in the moonlight, of Kathryn's body pliant in his arms, of their warm, breathy, achingly sweet kisses. But they kept coming, the images that roared into his brain and wouldn't release him. 

He got up, stared bleary-eyed at the chronometer which showed 0300. Giving a cry of frustration got up and strode to his wardrobe and opened the bottom drawer. There lay the mirror he had given her. The mirror she returned. He remembered his acute disappointment that she gave him back what he'd given with so much devotion, so much love, so much trust. 

He wanted love. She wanted friendship. 

_"I cannot give you what you desire…"_

He'd said that to Seven. 

Kathryn said that to him. 

Yet she loved him with her whole heart, like he worshipped her with his whole being. 

Kneeling by the drawer he stroked each glimmering stone, collected at planets they'd visited over the years. He had given each stone a name. Virtue, trust, loyalty, commitment, devotion, beauty. The one that reminded him most of Kathryn's eyes he called " _Aquamarine_ ". 

_I cannot promise never to die, Kathryn…_

_It's okay to be out of control, to love like a raging torrent._

Hope. It was all he had left. All her words had promised him. Hope was waiting. When Pandora's box finally relinquished hope, all that was left to him in the universe was time, time stretched into eternity. He felt raw inside at the thought of waiting without hope. With a sudden flurry of movement, Chakotay hurled the mirror against the bulkhead where it clattered noisily to the floor, mercifully not breaking. 

Sighing, he got up and sat on the bed. From his bed stand he took his copy of Moby Dick and began reading. He'd progressed further than the three chapters after Tom Paris challenged him to read the novel, with still more than forty to go. 

Hopefully I can fall asleep, he thought. 

But sleep eluded him as Kathryn kept intruding on the pages of chapter ninety. 

When he awoke in the morning, the book had sailed off the bed and, he realised with dismay, his alarm had not alerted him. Did he sleep just one hour? By the time he reached the bridge, he was out of breath. 

Kathryn was already seated and looked up the moment he sat down. He wasn't late but he was always on the bridge before her. 

She gave a quirky smile as she lightly touched his right brow. 

"You brawled with Hammer Man again, Commander?" 

He didn't respond, stunned by her beauty, her friendliness, the concern in her voice. 

And all he wanted to do was drown in _Aquamarine…_

_***********_

 END CHAPTER 1

TBC

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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